Can't Trust That Day
by sidewinder
Summary: Captain Cragen is having a Monday. And it's not even eight a.m. yet. (Munch/Fin slash. Set following the Season 6 episode "Haunted" and part of my episode-related "The Spaces In Between" Series.)


Donald Cragen liked to get in to the precinct early on Monday mornings. Even an extra thirty or forty minutes gave him the opportunity to see what had piled up on his desk over the weekend, and develop a game plan for the week ahead before the typical daily madness in the squadroom began. If he were lucky he could make himself a cup of coffee, sit at his desk in meditative solitude for a while, and mentally prepare himself for whatever sick and twisted perversity this city was going to throw at him over the next few days.

 _If_ he were lucky. Regrettably, good fortune did not appear to be on his side today.

For starters, traffic had been slow due to an early morning accident, costing him twenty minutes of his hoped-for alone time. Then he found no one had cleaned the coffeepot over the weekend and it was up to him to scour out three-day-old sludge if he wanted to brew anything remotely drinkable. When he did finally get to step into his office, he found that a cold case had been reopened and directed to SVU, and he was just starting to make sense of the thick, dusty file when he heard someone knocking at his door.

 _Did I even make it through five minutes of peace and quiet this morning?_ he thought ruefully, but he squashed his annoyance and put on his in-charge face as he looked up to see Detective Munch standing there. And things did not bode well when he could see Munch looking even more serious than usual.

"Morning, Captain."

"Morning, Detective. You're in early today."

"Early bird catches the worm—and the captain before anyone else has arrived."

 _Maybe I need to start coming in on Sundays if they're figuring out all of my routines._ "Something I can do for you?"

"If you have a minute."

"Not really but go on." He noticed John had a folder in his hands, which he then placed on top of the others already piled high on Cragen's desk. "What's this?"

"Something I wanted to inform you of personally before it trickled down from the Chief of Ds. I'm going to be submitting my request to be transferred to another division this week."

Cragen blinked. He definitely hadn't drunk enough coffee to deal with this yet. "On what grounds? John, you've been a member of this unit for what...five years now? While I know that's not usual practice for SVU, your expertise and years dealing with homicide cases have been particularly helpful here. I'd hate to lose that."

"On the grounds that for the past two of those years I have been engaged in a sexual relationship with my partner Odafin Tutuola and that relationship is beginning to affect my ability to perform on the job."

"Close the door and sit down."

John did as he was told while Cragen took a moment to compose his response beyond _I'm beginning to really, really hate Monday mornings_. "Well, John. Needless to say I'm quite shocked by this revelation."

"Not nearly as shocked as I was when the affair began, I can assure you."

"I'm not talking about the nature of your relationship with Detective Tutuola. Just the timing of it to which you profess." At John's arched eyebrow, Cragen continued, "You could have fooled me; I thought you two had been at it for a lot longer than that."

"Sir?"

"I'm not blind. I see everything that's going on in my unit. I _have_ to." Cragen paused for a sip of his coffee before it grew cold. "I'm not saying you both haven't been admirably discreet about it. If that hadn't been the case—if I had any reason to believe it was affecting your work here—I would have called you on it immediately."

"Duly noted."

"So why now? Did you two have a fight...split up?"

"No, it's nothing like that." John hesitated as if he really didn't want to go on. Cragen knew the man well enough by now to know he didn't like talking about personal matters, but he wasn't about to let one of his best detectives off the hook on this. So he waited, with his patience only _slightly_ running thin. "Captain, when Fin took that bullet a couple weeks ago, I was a basket case. I think it hit me harder than it hit him."

"It shook everyone here up...except Fin himself, from what he would show to the rest of us, at least. I've been far more concerned about his reaction to the shooting than yours." The way Fin had refused to slow down for even one day after getting out of the hospital, diving into an old and personal case, _that_ had been reckless. In comparison, occasionally shooting a too-long-to-be-casual glance across the desk to his partner, stealing a touch or a quiet moment when they thought no one was looking? Not all that high on Cragen's list of concerns. "I've told him he should make time to speak with Dr. Huang, but I'm sure he hasn't. Perhaps I should recommend the same to you, let the doctor help you both process the lingering trauma."

"Maybe it would help, but I don't know. I do know that we're not supposed to put our partner's well being above doing our jobs properly. I'm not sure I have the emotional distance required to do that any longer."

"And again, if I believed that to be a serious issue with either of you at this point in time I would have taken action already. My God, I worry more about Olivia and Elliot in this regard than you and Fin."

This time both of John's eyebrows rose as if attempting an escape into the ceiling tiles. "Wait...when did they—?"

"They haven't. But maybe if they finally _did,_ they wouldn't be so distracted by each other at work."

John snorted at that, and Cragen only wished he were joking.

"Have you discussed any of this with your partner yet?" he asked.

"Not exactly."

"Which means no." John didn't correct him. "Then maybe that's the place to start this conversation instead of dropping it on my desk. Fin had a week of sick leave due to him after the shooting, of which he took none, as you know. And I don't believe you've used hardly any of your personal days for this year. Why don't you both make use of some time off and think about this decision more carefully. Get the hell out of the city for a few days, even. It's almost Christmas and even the perps seem to take it easy during the holidays."

"In case you've forgotten, I'm Jewish."

"Don't start this week off with me wanting to smack you."

"Sorry."

"I mean it. Clean up whatever you two are working on today and then go away for a few days. When you come back, you can turn in those papers if you really believe that's the right thing to do. Or, we can pretend that this conversation never took place. I won't even let on to Fin that you spilled the beans."

"Maybe that's a good idea."

"Maybe that's an _order_ , Detective."

"Yes, sir." John stood up, took his papers back from Cragen and headed for the door.

"Oh, and John?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you two found each other. You want my one piece of advice? Don't ever take it for granted."

"Not for one second, Captain." John offered him a rare, unguarded smile before leaving and Cragen sighed in relief. He was glad to have put out at least one fire today—and it wasn't even eight a.m. yet. Not too bad for a Monday morning after all.


End file.
